


I Still Try To Find My Place

by hummingrightalong



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hate to Love, M/M, Original Character(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 13:58:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingrightalong/pseuds/hummingrightalong
Summary: Our Trick Fix-it.This is how it all starts. Nick meets Troy at El Pelicano. An accidental injury causes Troy's militia to have to take Nick back to their base.Past Nick/Luci, eventually Troy/Nick1st few chapters are going to be tame but this will end up mature/explicit





	1. Sober and Silent, Faded and Violent

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this. It's the very beginning of a retelling of Season 3. My gf and I have been working on this fix-it for a while. It will be very different from canon. Trick is endgame.

Immediately I know shit isn’t as it should be. My memory should be scrambled all to hell like the rest of my brains but I usually feel pretty sharp, and if I remember to take a few shallow breaths and not totally freak until I know what I’m in for- yeah, this all looked pretty much like the end of every other bender. 

Huh. Was that the direction I’d taken, all by myself without...fuck her and forget that train of that Nicholas...ouch. It’s my own damn name. Makes it even funnier...really fucking sore around the edges there. Whatever I managed to dodge *definitely* had been the closest yet.

I feel like there’s something I could be grasping here, an important detail. Something about high-fiving death lately- and A LOT. Makes sense though. Nope. Not going to dwell on it. I know what comes next. The room smells pleasant, the lights aren’t even that bad for once. I can’t feel them burning through my eyelids, which means all the buzzing in my ears can go away. Stop calling my name before you wear it out. 

That means all of you; nurse unlucky enough to be on call when they brought me (in spite of being personally sick of my face) would just have to share room with a couple LAPD promotion sniffers.

*That part I always liked.*

“Hm?” 

Wait a second. 

“Maite? You told me it’d be near another hour- yeah you did I have it right here.” A dude, my age - maybe...might be a little older - with just a hint of an accent...Southwestern I guess. Not exactly like a cowboy, unless this guy is the real deal. I only have shitty old movies to compare to. Certainly not what I expect a doctor to sound like, anyway...Maybe he’s new? Oh the possibilities...

“What did I tell you? You really don’t want to make me come this way again. Not until I forgive you for this disaster you brought-” Boy she’s pissed. He’s...apologizing- oops, not yet. “I know you are, and you know I don’t have the time to play. If you haven’t already put your heads together then he can join you later. If the little pain in my ass can even remember.” Her exit is louder than the restrained whisper she’d been using, her footsteps make up most of the sound, but she stops to drive her point home. 

She may not exactly be waking the dead, but the volume is the same as when she stood right next to me. The way I feel it’s impossible that her frustration is my fault. Whatever that guy did...he was lucky he wasn’t half dead and kind of cramped all over...weak and somehow still floating. “Never mind. I’m scared you might actually try that. It’s not your fault, Troy...all the plans you made, the scouts tracking that vile gang...Los Hermanos is no joke - not even before ‘the fall’ and now anyone looking for a settlement near the border has less a chance of being murdered for whatever is left in their backpacks. The girl said her village wasn’t far from there, those families and children might not have a steady supply of water- but they obviously had *something* to trade. If this moron had been more alert...both of us could maybe find a moment to relax.”

She’s definitely new. The authority and the thick Mexican accent are clearly there, but Luci doesn’t have any hang ups about what we trade first of all. Luci’s nerves have obviously been tested to their limit already, and I know she’s felt like our scheme is going to backfire. 

I feel kind of like I’m missing out. They skipped my turn. The sucky part will follow soon. At the moment I feel the empty place in my gut where ‘beautiful woman calls me asshole’ (or worse) in Spanish. The verbal abuse is really motivating...so if I study my ass off, manage to keep up...I win. She claims my pronunciation is so shitty she has to shut me up somehow. At this stage she’s right, but it’s become ‘our thing’. Wonder what I’ll replace it with. 

“Better get the heck out then!” 

Every second I float just outside my body, one of my senses drags me down. That doctor had a sharp eye when it came to anesthesia. I’ll admit I was scared shitless and even scared straight once; a little too much fun had sent me to the hospitable- the fuck up wasn’t drug related at all really, just happening to a severe and habitual user. Everything I do, I do it big and loud, almost always too much. My sister liked to tell me that we were the most perfectly balanced twins - I liked to remind her that I showed up early to warm up the crowd, and being the freak she was, Alicia had desperately needed to be perfect upon conception. 

Hence the reason our parents spent half our childhoods accepting that at least one of them would be asked a variation of ‘the first one was just so much fun you couldn’t wait for another huh?’. Eventually eyes would roll and the standard answer became ‘they’re Irish twins...nobody take offense it’s a cliched old offensive thing I know...we were just so young, and stupid, and really they turned out wonderful’. 

“Where the fuck am I?” As soon as I get a look at this guy and the heat he’s packing a recently matured part of my brain is actually fighting the instincts to be a dick, or remind whoever had me handcuffed to a bed this time that they basically had no right. I could be wrong this time, I actually see clearly how the guy could counter that. He wouldn’t even need the the guns, the holy-fuck-machete-almost-as-long-as-I-am-tall…”Hi, I’m Nick. Where the fuck am I?” 

I tug on the cuff around my wrist for effect. The effort is just as much for me as it is for him. Sensations are coming back bit by bit, I’m painfully aware of that. Next should come actual panic; it’s obvious I’d already proved to be a less than credible person. I feel really fucking shitty for lying to a woman I genuinely liked, risking our lives that much more...maybe she thought I was dead. How much time had even passed? 

“Which question would you like me to ask first.” He snaps. I think so anyway. 

Huge, in a tall lanky sort of way. Strong. Clearly the alpha male in the room. Quite possibly the most important dude in camo. Now I can set the scene in my head. Los Hermanos had been ambushed. Fucking *moments* after we walked away from a huge payoff for the product we’d traded. It was actually working. 

As foolish as it sounds I thought there was still hope to try again, though the signs obviously proved the whispers I thought I’d heard true. The gang was moving along. Soon anyway. There was talk of a better place, bigger guns and more man power. Let them go, it would only make life easier. Even if the gang took everything La Colonia remained safely tucked away in secret, protected from invasion unless they had the tools and time to blow all those infected away. 

Alejandro’s reverence for them is lost on me. If I had met him before Celia maybe I’d feel different. I try not to remind the one member of his flock who adores him most, but I know- I think she knows too- that he speaks with so much conviction, that his expression was damn near reverent last I say an infected member of the community willingly sacrifice himself to mindless hungry corpses. 

I absolutely get what the old guy is trying to do. He’s trying to give them something to believe in, strength to go on. Maybe he was bitten...though even Celia did not make up stories about immunity. She believed in a death, thought that was the way her god intended, and that suddenly we were allowed to see proof of afterlife. Never had any reason to doubt she wanted to help me find peace and faith. Between me myself and I, Celia and Madison pushed me away together: Celia’s refusal to release the hold on her son, to at least accept the man he loved, and the final disrespect of his desire to be laid to rest, it all reminded me of my mother. 

Haunting me, trying to guilt me into allowing her more control of my stints in rehab after I’d become a legal adult. Blaming Gloria every time I slipped despite the fact that *we* were clean until *I* fell off the wagon every time. Glo could’ve used a hovering nagging mom more than I could really. If I wasn’t painfully aware of Alicia’s all around perfection, the pride any other parent would soak up, encourage. If Alicia wasn’t getting totally sidelined, made to worry about about her mom out there in places clearly less safe for her than I (bad things happen in a crack house), then it was a judgemental shitstorm only our mother was capable of.  
*  
“Start with where the hell I am. After that, you can tell me where Luci is, and if she’s safe. When I’m getting back to her too.”

He explains in clipped phrases, and reverse order, what kind of situation *I* walked into, his tone and choice of words making it obvious that he feels like I should be grateful. 

“Well, you’re wounded pretty badly. I’m no doctor, but I’ve seen enough bullet wounds that I don’t need my surgeon to tell me you’ll be a few weeks before you can even think of normal activity.” The look on his face says he feels like even that’s too long. Obviously he can’t wait to get rid of me. Feeling’s mutual buddy. “Your girlfriend should already be back home. I ain’t seen her since I lifted you out. I’m sure she’s desperately awaiting your return. Is she a masochist, by any chance? Or does she even know you’ve been skimming off the top? Costing her and her family water.”

Ouch. That was between us. All I can muster is a weak, “asshole.” He smirks in reply. Apparently that was answer enough. 

“Well I can tell ya that after you shake off the drugs from surgery, there won’t be any narcotics in your future. My surgeon is pissed by the way. Could barely find a vein. I don’t have to ask if you’re still using and something tells me your people back at La Colonia don’t know.” 

What an ass. Like it’s his business. 

“Fuck you.” Wait a second. “Surgery?” 

The dangerous looking bastard looming over me loses the smirk. He almost looks...apologetic. Embarrassed at least.

“You got caught in the crossfire. Not sure what you were doing back inside the grocery store but I guarantee those men would have your head for it if my men hadn’t intervened. A shot went through one of them, into you. Without our help, quick work on Maite’s part, you’d definitely be dead. At the very least useless to your friends.”

I remember shooting breaking out now. I remember thinking I could slip in and get a few extra supplies if I was careful, if I went in through the back. I remember Luci screaming. Not much else after that.

“What about our supplies? There are children there. They need water. They’re starving too.”

“Think I left them high and dry? I’m no monster. Gave the girl one of our trucks and let her have run of the supplies we didn’t need. She took ‘em all by the way. Not that I’m complaining. We’re pretty well stocked here. Mostly wanted that two bit gang out of the way before they came across the border. Got plans for that border crossing. There’s a US military base there with no supervision. Which is where you are for the moment. But we’ll be moving you to the ranch when you’re a little better. Now, when you get there you’ll have to earn your keep.”

“I want to go back to La Colonia.” I try to sit up, but I’m starting to feel the (holy shit!) bullet wound. “How the hell am I supposed to earn my keep like this?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. We’ll find something for you to do.” I pointedly look him up and down at that, a little nervous but I have to admit if I wasn’t seeing someone a part of this might have piqued my interest. The man at least. Until he’d begun telling me what to do, where I was going to go, and implying that I owed him anything.

“You’re the one that did it.” A declaration, not a question. This kind of man, with that kind of presence, is hard to forget. My memory is clearing up now and I can see him around one of the Hermanos (the fucker that tried to take my arm the first time we met). I remember the feeling of the impact, looking down and seeing blood run between my fingers as I held the burning ache made by the impact. 

“Yeah. So I’m fixing it. You’re welcome.”


	2. One Step Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooper's POV. Because I love him and I think there's a lot more to him than we saw in the show:
> 
> Still at the base, Nick slips up while detoxing and recovering from his wound.

Babysitting duty today.

Can’t say I’m pleased about it, but it’s what the boss wants. Also, while we’re setting up the base, before we get to check in at home, there’s a lot of little jobs to get done that nobody wants to volunteer for. The kid will be perfect for it. 

I’ve been up for hours, taking care of the important things, waiting for the orders I know are coming. I’m not afraid to admit that it’s a little amusing how I’m finally left with my charge.

Troy is bickering with the kid- Nick- in the hallway. He’s in pain apparently, of course. A gut shot will do that and is no easy thing to recover from. Still, from my experience he’s being a bit of a baby about it. I might be more sympathetic if he hadn’t been such a pain in the ass. If he hadn’t done what he did last night. 

More on that in a moment. 

I know Maite is watching, hoping that the ‘light duty’ assignment has nothing to do with her department. She’s as protective of her small staff and supplies as any doctor would be. Hence the shit duty. Again, we’ll get to that.

“What the hell is this?” Clark, Nick is asking. Boy did he have a hell of a fit just giving that up. Almost started a brawl during the general interview process when Troy asked if that was short for Nicholas. Obviously yes. Obviously that’s a sore spot.

“Clipboard,” Troy’s tone is dripping with sarcasm. No shit, the thing he’s tapping you on the shoulder with is a clipboard. If you’ve ever seen something as simple as that, a few papers attached with instructions to verify items by type,where they should be relocated, and how many we have in stock. 

The kid has missed several supply runs, coming in and out, complaining about the pain and how we’re managing it. Maite says there’s only so much she can do. Troy tries to help out, bringing his knowledge of natural remedies and non-psychoactive plant based pain relievers. And a fair amount of tylenol. It’s the best we can offer. Can’t exactly waste hard-to-acquire medications on someone with an addiction to them. He’d require high doses- which is risky to begin with, and it’d mean several steps back in the efforts of Maite and her staff to detox him. 

Just when he’d started to get pleasant a few days ago, actually interested in staying busy and maybe (even if he’s just curious) helping us out, he’s begun to act up again. Grouchy, tired, unhelpful and unfriendly. Very sarcastic.

We get it.

That’s why I’m on guard duty.

“You’re going to take inventory. And Coop here is going to watch you.” Troy smiles, pats the kid gently on the back and begins to turn away. He’s a busy man, there’s a lot better he could be doing than helping this kid out. He’ll be gone as soon as he heals. I have a sick feeling that there’s something about him that strikes the boss’s curiosity, that has him furiously taking notes whenever they interact. Another reason why I volunteered.The kid’s outta here asap. And that’s probably for the best where Troy is concerned. Yeah, the kid was weird (ok, more than weird) but this newbie, he’s trouble.

Troy was there for me in a pretty shitty part of my life. I’d come out of the military, pissed off at our government and looking for a change. He’d come to meet me when I’d contacted the ranch through the number of an infomercial (of all things). We’d sat and talked about what brought me to where I am, he’d asked me if I wanted a different mission. I’ve been working with, and for, a man much younger than myself with no real military training because I see what he’s capable of and trust him with my life. 

“I really need a babysitter?” Nick is asking as he’s ushered into one of the supply rooms, clutching his clipboard but looking like he wants to hit one of us with it.

“Well, yeah, it’s not like you can be trusted alone. You’re a thief, aren’t you?” I answer for Troy. Gently (as possible) pushing the injured teenager face first into the wall. I don’t have to dig into his pockets long to find what I knew would be there. “I’m sure Troy won’t mind returning that to medical, and while I know better, you’d better hope that Maite finds every single dose she’s missing. Or this is going to be a very frustrating day for the both of us.”

"Shit that's 5 bucks I'm not getting back, thanks Nick." Troy groans. "We strip searched his ass when he got here. I know we didn't mean to, but he had to get naked one way or another. So you better run or hide, Nicky."

"No, he better be here to take it when she finds out. None of us are going to take the shit." Like I said, the woman is intense. We've been keeping it quiet, but I'd also like to stay in her good graces...for reasons. Troy always has an extra raised eyebrow when the subject of Maite comes up between us. He knows. Somehow the little shit always knows. Yeah, well, I know something about him. Even if he doesn't.

"He already owes me 5 bucks, so no."


End file.
